


We Will Only Ever Belong to One Another

by fortunatelykeendetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Clubbing, Hand Jobs, Jealous John, John and Sherlock are Married, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Sherlock falls apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatelykeendetective/pseuds/fortunatelykeendetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock go out clubbing. Sherlock gets some unwanted attention, which drives John batty and leads to some sexy times. </p><p>Not beta-ed or Britpicked, so please feel free to point out things that need fixing. As always, I live for your feedback. No, seriously. I love to hear from you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Only Ever Belong to One Another

Hips grind, scents mingle, bodies are close enough to catch sweat dripping from strangers. Strobes in all shades of the rainbow flash, an all-out overstimulation. Normally this would be enough to send Sherlock’s senses offline and into meltdown, but John is there and John keeps him right.

They’re both lightweights, and all it takes is a couple Jack and Cokes for both men to forget whose idea it was to hit up this joint in the first place, but John is so hard in his trousers he doesn’t bloody _care_ whose idea it was. Having an uninhibited buzzed-not-quite-drunk Sherlock Holmes grinding those oh-so-pliant hips right on his waist, occasionally brushing his crotch, is about as much as he can think about at the moment. _God_ , he muses, _how stupid were we, how much time did we waste. We could’ve had this for years now._

John’s mouth and tongue pressing ever so lightly on about two centimetres of Sherlock’s exposed collarbone and within a millisecond Sherlock’s warm breath ghosting over John’s ear, Sherlock’s body pressed in _thisclose_ to him and _Christ_ , John might be more horny than he has ever been in his life. He has never seen Sherlock cut loose like this before, and John thinks he might spontaneously combust. His cock hardens more than he thought possible, insistent to be released from his trousers at the feel of Sherlock’s breath, tongue, teeth gliding over his earlobe and down to the nape of his neck.

Just as John is about to beg for _more please oh God_ Sherlock pulls away and, in what John finds to be an impossibly endearing – if sexually frustrating - streak of humanity, shouts in John’s ear, “I’LL BE BACK IN A MOMENT. I NEED THE LOO.” And before John can blink, he’s gone. _I blog about the great Sherlock Holmes, whose bladder was felled by a couple adult beverages_ , John thinks to himself behind the softest of smiles.

John drifts out of the crowd to hang back by the wall and wait for his lover, in whose stunning hands lie John’s heart and soul and (quite often) his body. From a few yards away and out of the corner of his eye he spots another man who looks to be about ten years older than Sherlock wearing tight leather pants and a transparent button-down shirt left stopping Sherlock as he makes his way back over to John. The man smiles just a bit too broadly and leans a bit too closely into Sherlock’s personal space.

Gone are the days when John would’ve simply walked up and _wham-bam!_ punched the bloke’s lights out, but he still takes none too kindly to anyone who would dare harass the man he loves. Knowing Sherlock’s past as he does puts his protective instincts into overdrive and John Watson will not tolerate another minute of the man’s advances. “Excuse me,” John glares at the interloper and issues his missive over the din and the lights and the sweat and the bodies, “but this insufferable beauty with Caribbean eyes is with _me_. I will warn you only once to step away from _my husband_.” Judging by the older man’s reaction, John’s steely gaze must make people think he’s ten feet tall and bulletproof, for the slimeball slinks away shoulders hunched and never looks back.

John grabs Sherlock by the sides of his shirt just above his trouser waistband, presses their groins together and slowly, methodically, never taking his eyes off Sherlock’s lips, backs him into the wall. The din of the techno, the crowd, it is all superfluous. John’s singular focus is on Sherlock. _Those lips, this heat, Christ that beautiful hard cock I want to have in any way I can get it_.

“John, I wasn’t flir-“ Sherlock’s eyes flit about anxious and wide.

“Shhhh, I know, love,” John whispers between the lightest of damp kisses all down Sherlock’s neck. “I know you…. by heart….remember?...You don’t have to…. explain a thing. I’ve been….aching to have you ever since…. we set foot in here…..and seeing someone else that close to you….. just makes me want you even more.”

Sherlock’s eyes are wide and dark with wonder, arousal, and they glint with just a twinge of naughty.

“Now, Sherlock Holmes, tell me the ways in which I can have you. Right here, right now, up against this wall,” John growls as he grinds their cocks together, the torturous friction just enough to cause Sherlock to lean his head back against the wall and his eyes roll back in his head.

“John!” he gasps, flushed and breathless. “Here? In front of all these people?!”

“You know….you’re right. I want you right here, but I’d rather hear you. I want to hear all the sounds you can make and I want you to be loud. I’m putting you in a cab and I’m going to take you home to Baker Street and I’m going to make love to you _all night long_ , Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock does that half-sigh-half-giggle thing he does that John adores, and Sherlock whispers into his ear, “Pick something and surprise me. That is, _if we can make it to Baker Street_.”

The cab ride home is a torturous fifteen minutes made even more so by the occasional hand trailing up a thigh but not quite where it needs to be, a couple fingers sucked in silence, a few ravenous glances. They practically fall out of the cab before it stops, Sherlock tossing a fare plus a generous tip at the cabbie as they unlock the front door and are up the stairs and into the sitting room before their cab has pulled away. Sherlock closes the sitting room door behind them and pulls John to himself _yes God John Watson against me take me any way you want me_.

John Watson needs no more impetus, and without delay his hands snake down Sherlock’s waist to undo his trouser button and zip, all the while impatiently grinding his hardness against his husband’s muscled thigh. John’s hand reaches down into Sherlock’s pants and into the dark curls to find that gorgeous cock so full and hard, _hard just for me. God, what a lucky sod I am, Sherlock Holmes wants me_. He slides fingers ever so softly down the shaft, and the friction between John’s fingers and Sherlock’s foreskin and glans causes Sherlock’s knees to give way ever so slightly. John wraps his entire hand around Sherlock’s cock and gives him another couple slow tugs, pulling the foreskin up over the glans and back down the shaft. Sherlock can only do his best to stay upright.

Before John can go any further, Sherlock _pick something and surprise me_ has John’s trousers open and is working on his zip while leaning into his husband’s ear and whispering , “It doesn’t seem to be fair for me to be the only one exposed here. If we are going to misbehave, I suggest we do so together. Now, I will face the door and I hope you take the hint and shag me as hard as you can. You’ll see I’ve already…..prepared. Reach into my pocket. What you find may come in handy.”

Without further ado Sherlock spins around and braces himself against the sitting room door. Mrs. Hudson or the neighbors might hear, but all Sherlock can think about is having John’s cock inside him.

John is a man who can take a hint, especially when it involves a chance to have this beautiful arse and the beautiful man it belongs to. His mouth goes dry as he grinds up to Sherlock and squeezes his arse cheeks through Sherlock’s trousers, which still cover Sherlock’s backside. He reaches into Sherlock’s pocket to find a packet of lube and decides not to ask Sherlock how he knew what the night would entail. He slides the trousers just low enough to get a view of Sherlock’s muscular bum and is rewarded by the sight of the thickest plug he’s ever seen holding Sherlock’s hole open. His mind is wild with lust, “Christ, Sherlock, that is the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen so far tonight, you all ready and open. Waiting for me. _God_ , but I love you more than you know.”

John wastes little time removing the plug, pulling his own cock out, lubing himself up, and wrapping his right arm around Sherlock’s tautly muscled torso as he sinks slowly into Sherlock, inch by inch _God he is so tight_ , until he is buried balls-deep inside the marvelous specimen of a man splay-legged and braced against their sitting room door where anyone might hear. “Oh. Ohhhhhhh,” moans Sherlock, rather vociferously, as John sinks into him. “Move, John. _Please_. I need to feel you.”

John begins to rock slowly, slowly at first, then picking up the pace. “You feel so warm and tight around me…..husband mine,” John grits out as he licks and kisses the nape of Sherlock’s neck and his earlobes. “I am going to make you feel so good, love, right here. You will not know who or where you are by the time I’m done with you. ”

John moves faster, sliding his left hand around Sherlock’s waist to take Sherlock in hand. He rocks back and forth inside Sherlock and judging from the way Sherlock shudders, he smirks and imagines he’s found Sherlock’s prostate.

Sherlock’s coming undone here, he isn’t sure which way to go. Go backward to John and John’s cock brushes against that beautiful bundle of nerves deep inside, and forward to fuck into John’s hand, the pre-come slicking him up just enough to build friction, John’s wedding band rolling against his shaft and frenulum and heightening what is already an impossibly glorious sensation.

John holds his trembling husband upright and by now he rolls his hips just so with every thrust, tugging hard on Sherlock’s cock. He keeps up this pace for another several minutes, holding both himself and Sherlock teetering on the edge, both men grunting panting _oh God please Christ that’s it right there more harder God you are fantastic I love you please I can’t hold on anymore_. Sherlock stills, then comes harder than he’s ever come in all his years, the streams of come warm and wet and sticky and miraculous and beautiful into John’s hand, his muscles clenching John’s prick as he bucks and moans and shudders in his husband’s arms.

John keeps it up for another minute or so, Sherlock spent and struggling to stay standing by now and John stroking Sherlock’s overly sensitive prostate and _God this is bloody fantastic I want to fuck you all night_ and he pounds into Sherlock. When he cannot hold back another second and finally explodes inside his husband his mind goes blank except for _Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock beautiful Sherlock mine_ and all that matters is the two of them in love in lust always together, always two and always one.


End file.
